


The Boundaries of Friendship

by Butterballs



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Roleplay, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterballs/pseuds/Butterballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a bit of a fetish for being watched. Aidan wholeheartedly approves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday! Have some porn! :D
> 
> This can be read as part of the First Times series, as I make references to it, but it can also be read as a standalone. Remember the days where I could write porn without a shitload of backstory? Good times, good times.

If Aidan had to name one thing that he’d learnt about Dean during their time together, it’d be Dean’s penchant for keeping things quiet. Their relationship from their co-stars, his own cries of pleasure in the bedroom (at least until Aidan told him to cut that shit out; he wanted to hear every whimper of desperation that he wrung from Dean’s lips), if he was feeling sick or crappy or generally overwhelmed; and, perhaps most importantly to Aidan’s one-track mind, his sexual desires and fantasies. It was as if Dean expected Aidan to read his mind and guess what he wanted, when really it’d be so much more straightforward if he simply said, ‘This is what I want you to do,’ and then directed Aidan’s hands or mouth or cock where he wanted it to go. 

Instead he whined and writhed and keened until he was teetering on the edge of explosion and grated out, usually in five words or less, what his nonexistent telepathic abilities were failing to say. Generally it was as simple as ‘harder’ or ‘slower’ or ‘to the right’, and Aidan sometimes wondered when Dean was going to slip and blurt out a long-held devious sexual fantasy. Probably never, but he was still hopeful.

The closest Dean ever got to such a confession was once, when they were deep in the middle of jerking each other furiously pre-make-up in an unused room at the studio. He had let out a particularly loud moan and Aidan hushed him and said, ‘Someone will hear, they could bust right in and see us like this.’ Dean had given him a naughty smile and whispered, ‘Would that be so bad?’ 

Aidan had hoped that Dean would elaborate but he never did, (even when outright asked to) and likely never would unless a gun was held to his head, so Aidan was left to assume that Dean rather liked the concept of being watched. It was a notion that also appealed to him enormously – he’d never really pondered it before, but now that Dean seemed interested…the thought of fucking Dean until his voice was hoarse and broken from screaming, making him come while someone rubbed one out across the room (it’d have to be a guy), locking eyes with their observer and knowing that the two of them were the cause for such a reaction and, most of all, knowing that only he was allowed to touch Dean...it was one fantasy that _needed_ to take the leap into reality. 

But how to broach the subject with Dean? What if Aidan’s intuition was completely wrong?

The answer to _that_ question came a couple of days later, in the form of showing rather than telling. They were in Dean’s trailer, getting ready for a night at the pub with the lads, and Dean was taking an unusually long time in the bathroom. (There was never any point in trying to shower together; distraction and then tardiness was inevitable.) Aidan finally got impatient and pretty much kicked the door in, saying, ‘For the love of God, how fuckin’ long does it take to do your hair, O’Gorman,’ and almost swallowed his tongue.

Dean was leaning against the shower wall, water beating down on the front of his body, his head thrown back and eyed closed as his hand moved quickly over his cock. He was being rather quiet, only panting rather than the moans Aidan usually demanded, and after several long seconds when he eventually noticed that Aidan was watching him, he _didn’t_ stop.

‘Christ,’ Aidan breathed. Dean didn’t reply; he just held Aidan’s gaze as he continued to stroke himself and he must’ve been close because his breath became uneven and heavy and his knees began to shake. When he came, shuddering, it was Aidan’s name on his lips. 

‘That was deliberate, you bastard,’ Aidan accused him after a moment. ‘You _wanted_ me to see you!’

Dean smirked. ‘Yeah.’

‘You _do_ like the idea of being watched.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean admitted, looking down as a faint blush stained his cheeks. ‘Not, like, all the time. Just. You know. It could be hot, once or twice.’

Aidan handed him a towel and rubbed the back of his head fondly. ‘You could’ve just said so.’

‘More fun this way,’ Dean replied, his words muffled as he rubbed his hair dry. ‘You better get ready, I’m pretty sure we’re late.’ He giggled, deftly avoiding the towel Aidan flicked at his rump in irritation.

***

The seed had been planted and it was driving Aidan fucking crazy. There was every possibility that making the fantasy a reality could wreck their relationship forever – cause trust issues, jealousy issues, just plain fuck shit up – but he couldn’t help but want to try taking the next step, that being finding someone to be their impartial third party. Aidan had no intention of outright asking any old person to, ah…’observe’ them; Dean was worth more than that, and that really only left the cast and crew of _The Hobbit_. That could get awkward.

Some of them were rather attractive, though.

Aidan decided to leave it up to Dean to incriminate himself and asked, quite craftily, he thought, the question one night when Dean was deep into his standard post-orgasm coma. 

‘So, completely hypothetically , would never happen, but consider it anyway, out of all the lads, if you had to pick one of them, who would it be?’

‘Richard,’ Dean said immediately. There was a meaningful silence. ‘I said that way too fast, didn’t I?’

 

‘Jesus, Dean, tell me how you really feel,’ Aidan retorted mournfully, holding his heart as if wounded. ‘What, would you have gone for him had I not asked you to kiss me?’

‘You _didn’t_ ask me to kiss you,’ Dean shot back immediately. ‘You asked what it was like to kiss a dude. I didn’t even oblige, as I recall; you all but mauled me.’

‘ _Mauled_!’

Dean shrugged and stretched, smiling lazily. Aidan, choosing to ignore that comment, arranged his limbs around Dean’s and began tracing the outline of a nipple with one finger. Dean squirmed under him.

'Besides,’ Dean mused, ‘You said it was only hypothetical. You were only asking in theory. Would never happen, et cetera. Right?'

'Oh, sure, totally hypothetical,' Aidan mumbled against Dean's neck. He pressed a slow line of kisses up to Dean's ear. 'So, why Richard? No, wait, let me guess...it's the fact that he's so tall, dark and handsome, and that voice of his does things to you...'

'Aidan!' Dean whined, doing his best to wriggle away. 

' _I'm_ tall, dark and handsome too, aren't I?'

'Stop sounding so jealous, you were the one who brought it up. Hypothetically.'

Aidan made a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement. He pawed absently at Dean's chest. 'I agree with you, for the record. If it were anyone it'd have to be Richard. He is the best looking.'

Dean snorted. 'You are so shallow.'

'I'm with you, aren't I?' Aidan sniggered good-naturedly. 'Not that you don't have a stellar personality too, it just really helps that you're also sexy as fuck.'

'The smaller man rearranged himself on the bed, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow. 'What are you buttering me up for, Turner?'

'"Buttering you up"? I'm offended. Can I not call my boyfriend sexy without wanting anything from him?'

'"Dean, you're looking good tonight, can I bum a smoke. Dean, that's a great shirt, can I borrow ten bucks. Dean, you've got a terrific arse, can you get me a coffee and a muffin from the breakfast buffet. Dean, have I ever told you that I love you, and by the way I've finished all the beer." Sound familiar?'

'You're seeing this entirely the wrong way,' Aidan scoffed, carrying on despite Dean having pulled the pillow over his head as if hinting to Aidan to shut up and let him sleep. 'Your ego gets inflated and I get whatever it is that I want from you. It's a win-win.'

'Some might call that manipulation,' Dean said, but there was an amused smile in his voice.

'Others might call it brilliance. Like you. You're brilliant.'

'What do you _want_ , Aidan?'

'I'm thinking about Richard,' Aidan admitted. Dean turned his head and blinked at him.

'Yeah, I can really see how that would lead to thoughts of m- oh _hell_ no,' Dean said suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows as understanding dawned on him. 'You are _not_ asking Richard if he'd fancy watching us go at it. We have to see him every single day. God, can you imagine the humiliation if he said no?'

'Can you imagine if he said yes?' Aidan countered.

'Aidan, please - '

'Okay, okay. Calm down. I won't ask Richard anything. I'll continue to admire him from afar instead.' Aidan leapt out of the bed and ran from the room cackling, dodging the pillow Dean threw at him in reply.

***

Aidan never intended on outright asking Richard if he'd like to watch them. Even thinking about such a forward conversation with him was uncomfortable. _'Morning, Rich, lovely weather we're having, how do you feel about observing Dean and I have sex?' 'Sounds brilliant, Aidan, your place or mine?'_ It was the sort of thing that only happened with deviants on the internet, in seedy gay clubs and in homoerotic fanfiction.

No, if the two of them wanted this (Aidan certainly did, and he _knew_ that Dean felt the same) he'd have to be a lot subtler. He'd have to gauge Richard's interest first before making his next move. This was one situation to which Dean's selective muteness was quite befitting.

Then at some stage he'd probably have to get Richard really, really drunk.

Aidan watched Richard intensely over the coming days, so intensely that it bordered on weird. In full make-up and costume it kind of looked like Kili had developed a very inappropriate crush on Thorin. When Dean wryly told him that he was starting to appear questionably interested in their on-screen uncle, Aidan said that he didn't need to be jealous and not to worry, he had everything under control.

'I don't know what that means and I'm afraid to ask.'

'Then don't!' Aidan brightly planted a swift kiss on Dean's cheek. 'Look, I promise I won't embarrass you. Or us. Or fuck things up in some other way. I'm trying to determine if Richard would go for...you know.' 

'By staring him down like a creeper?' Dean asked pointedly. 

'I'm examining his mannerisms, thank you, to see if he pays us any extra attention, watches us more than usual, that sort of thing.' 

'Right.' Dean grinned. 'Maybe he'll get the hint and ask you to tell him what it's like to kiss a bloke.'

'Don't be a bitch,' Aidan said primly. 'Just because _you_ were unable to resist me - '

' - I rather think it was the other way around - '

' - doesn't mean that Richard will feel the same way.'

Dean shrugged. 'Whatever. Just try to keep the ogling to a minimum. People have started asking me if you're interested in him and it's getting awkward. If I were less of a man I'd feel threatened.'

'Lucky for me you're man enough for both of us, right?' Aidan asked, rolling his eyes. Dean quirked his lips in that way that made his dimples look deep enough to lose a finger in.

'Precisely.'

***

Aidan stopped his obvious surveillance of Richard, which led to friendly jibes about whether Kili had fallen out of love with Thorin. 'He was never in love with Thorin in the first place, he's got Fili instead,' Aidan shot back, which caused a chorus of 'Ew!' to echo throughout the studio. He half-felt like abandoning the idea altogether because the whole thing seemed levels of impossible, and he privately thought that Dean found his preoccupation with Richard unsettling. He'd assured Dean time and time again that he didn't want to _touch_ Richard and he didn't want to Dean to touch Richard either; that Dean was the one he loved and he would never do anything to upset him.

Dean seemed to accept that and let the subject drop, but his habit of, to be blunt, _feeling up_ Aidan (among other things) while in close proximity to their friends and while out _with_ their friends (but never in direct view of anyone) went from occasional and cute to all too fucking frequent and frustrating. Aidan wasn't quite convinced that Dean was deliberately trying to be a cock tease - it seemed doubtful given that Dean's initial hesitance to take their relationship beyond even kissing - but he was on the verge of asking the question because he was sick of having Dean push him up against a wall, rock their hips together crudely, shove his tongue down Aidan's throat and then trot off merrily _just_ before they were interrupted. 

‘You’re gonna get yourself in trouble,’ Aidan finally warned as Dean withdrew his hands from the folds of Aidan’s costume after Peter summoned them both with a shout. 

‘Promises,’ Dean hissed back. The smirk he threw Aidan as he headed over to the others all but screamed out _punish me!_ , and it didn’t help that he wandered over to Richard, leaned up as far as he could and said something into the taller man’s ear that made Richard smile. 

Maybe this was Dean’s way of getting back at Aidan for all the teasing in the earlier stages of their relationship. Maybe it was a test. Aidan wasn’t sure. He was torn between being amused and completely bewildered, and a few nights later, when he and Dean were entwined on the sofa in Dean’s trailer in blissful domesticity, he was about to say straight out, ‘You’re confusing the crap out of me,’ when there was a light knock at the door.

‘I thought everyone was going to the pub tonight,’ Dean mused as he rose from the couch to open it. Aidan shrugged. ‘Well, hello, Richard!’

Richard stood on the steps of Dean’s trailer looking rather sheepish. ‘Hello, boys. I hope I’m not interrupting. Everyone else _did_ go to the pub tonight but I had a case of the can’t-be-arseds. I felt like a bit of a loser sitting at home alone, though, so I figured I’d see what you two were doing.’

‘Oh, the usual. Watching telly, drinking and smoking. Come in, Aidan’s been doing his best to convince me to put on _Armageddon_. I wasn’t too keen on the idea so I think you’ll end up being the tie-breaker for us.’

Aidan gave an offended snort. ‘I love Bruce, I love doomsday films, and I love Aerosmith. Honestly Dean, how could you _not_ want to put it on?’ 

‘I’m with Aidan,’ Richard said with an apologetic smile at Dean. 

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Dean muttered, turning on his heel and disappearing into the kitchenette to do something about the drink situation. ‘I don’t think we’ve got any wine, Richard,’ he called, head buried in the fridge. ‘It’s beer or – ooh, excellent, Aidan managed not to drink all the scotch.’ Aidan blew him a raspberry.

He was, to be honest, greatly bemused and a little suspicious of what Richard was doing there. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Richard (in fact, he and Dean probably liked Richard too much); it was that he rarely spent time alone with his onscreen nephews, being slightly older and a lot more serious. Occasionally Aidan felt that he and Dean were too… _frivolous_ for Richard.

Aidan was also afraid that Richard was going to request an explanation about his recent staredown. It seemed unlikely, though. Richard didn’t appear to be the confrontational type.

‘Scotch for all!’ Dean proclaimed, returning from the kitchenette with three short glasses and the bottle tucked under his arm. ‘Put the movie on, then.’

Richard chose the single-seater across from where Aidan and Dean were sitting – or where Aidan was sitting, rather, and Dean was draped possessively across him. It seemed like an odd choice; there was plenty of room on the sofa for another person and you couldn’t see the TV as well from the single-seater. Dean commented as much and asked Richard if he’d prefer to move but the older man shook his head.

‘I can see all I need to from here,’ he said mildly. To Aidan’s filthy mind it sounded like a double entendre. 

And just like that, he knew how he was going to get back at Dean for his incessant teasing. It would require a bit of crafty planning – and by that, Aidan meant a large helping hand from Johnnie Black – but he was sure he could pull it off, consequences be damned.

It worked, because towards the end of the movie both Richard and Dean were snoring lightly, too much scotch and the incineration of Bruce apparently being not enough to hold their attention. Aidan slid one hand under Dean’s shirt to seek out a nipple, circling the edge of it but never fully touching. Dean stirred under him, sighing happily as Aidan moved across to the other nipple. When Aidan slid his other hand under Dean’s shirt and rubbed both nipples simultaneously, he was sure Dean would wake, but instead he murmured happily and threw one arm above his head. Aidan pressed on the crotch of Dean’s jeans, evaluating the effect he was having, and was pleased to find that his slumbering boyfriend was half-hard.

He gingerly undid the button and had the zipper halfway down before Dean woke up, hissing Aidan’s name in alarm.

‘What?’ Aidan whispered back. He looked quickly at the chair across the room but Richard was still sleeping in a position sure to hurt him come morning.

‘Stop it! You’ll wake up Richard.’

‘Actually, _you_ will wake him up if you aren’t quiet,’ Aidan smirked, pulling the zipper down the rest of the way and kissing Dean’s erection through his boxer-briefs. ‘Think about this as a test run, Deano…Richard is watching us, but he’s also not. Also, this is far less than you deserve for teasin’ me so damn much this past week.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Sure you don’t.’ Aidan licked Dean’s cock through the fabric, ignoring the pained whine above him, and then kissed up the light trail of hair to Dean’s navel. He yanked the jeans down, extremely aware of Dean holding his breath, and then proceeded to kiss Dean’s inner thighs, his fingers splayed across Dean’s hips. He kissed down further, caressing the tender skin behind Dean’s knees and then back up again and paused over Dean’s now-full cock. As expected, Dean’s pelvis twitched, arching up to where Aidan’s mouth hovered. He whined low in his throat when Aidan refused to go any further.

‘Do you want this?’ Aidan asked him, quiet but still loud enough for Richard to hear should he have been conscious. ‘Do you want my hot, wet mouth around your cock?’

‘Shut the fuck up! He’ll hear you!’

‘You wanted him to, didn’t you?’

‘Not like this, it’s so seedy – oh, oh, _fuck_.’

Aidan had freed Dean’s erection from its fabric prison and was sucking gently on the head; not enough to make Dean come or get anywhere close to coming, just enough to make him almost lose his mind with lust. Dean inhaled sharply and thrust his left fist into his mouth, biting down to muffle his cries as Aidan swallowed the rest of Dean’s length, tracing the column of flesh in his mouth with his tongue. He pulled off and took a moment to admire Dean’s face stretched taut with arousal, his stomach muscles flexing with each caress.

‘Watch him,’ Aidan commanded in a low voice. ‘Watch him and imagine how hot it’d be if he were awake – if he were touching himself as I brought you off.’ Dean whimpered. ‘Those eyes, that voice…actually, I’m not sure if you could handle it. Maybe that’s why you refused to let me do anything about it.’

‘Fuck you, yes I could,’ Dean moaned with a helpless wriggle.

‘I doubt it. You’re not very good at asking for what you want.’ Aidan extended his tongue and made a point of circling the head of Dean’s dick, waiting for the instructions to get on with it. They didn’t come, of course; not that he really expected them to.

‘Unnnhh…’

‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that.’

‘Stop fucking talking and _suck_ me!’

‘Much better,’ Aidan said mostly to himself and did as he was told, but not before a quick glance in Richard’s direction. Richard’s eyes were still closed and his body hadn’t changed position, but his breathing was noticeably less deep and even…Aidan couldn’t help but wonder…he resisted the urge to look at Richard’s lap and enveloped Dean’s dick with his mouth, taking the long, deep swipes that always brought his boyfriend’s train of thought to a crashing halt. He looked up at Dean’s face twisted in its usual mask of ecstasy, and then back over to their guest – and his heart stopped.

Richard’s eyes were open and flitting from Aidan to Dean and back again. He didn’t look disgusted or embarrassed or put out or even surprised, he just looked…ravenous. Dean noticed at the same time Aidan did and, for a moment, Aidan thought that either one or both of them would flee the room in shame.

Then Richard said, ‘Don’t stop,’ and it came out like a demand, not a request, and much lower and rougher than his voice usually was. Aidan couldn’t have refused even if he wanted to.

Ignoring the ache in his groin, Aidan sucked his right index finger into his mouth and slicked it well up with spit, returning it down between Dean’s legs to prod at the opening there. The saliva was less than ideal but it was still better than nothing and Dean relaxed, allowing Aidan’s finger to slip inside, where it was quickly joined by a second. Aidan probed carefully, not wanting to cause unnecessary damage, and smiled to himself when Dean’s moan became a shout, indicating that he’d found the right spot. He massaged that tender bundle of nerves over and over, not allowing Dean one moment’s respite even though he knew Dean must be close to the edge.

‘You’re letting me finger-fuck you in front of one of our closest friends,’ Aidan observed, eyeing the pearl of pre-come forming on the tip of Dean’s cock. ‘How is it that it’s so much hotter than I ever imagined?’

‘Does he ever shut up?’ Richard asked Dean suddenly, making Dean laugh through his moans.

‘Not really,’ he managed, breathing hard from the onslaught of pleasure from Aidan’s fingers.

‘Then make him.’

Aidan bit his tongue at the stab of lust that shot through his body at Richard’s words. Richard could probably keep saying dirty things to Dean and he’d come in his pants just from that. He never got the chance, of course, because Dean took hold of the back of Aidan’s head and guided his erection between his lips. He thought he heard Richard groan somewhere in the background.

As instructed, Aidan shut up, sucking Dean hard and fast and deep with the intention of making him come as loudly and as lewdly as possible. He choked, recovered, and began again, confident in his skill by the sounds both Dean and Richard were making. He strained his eyes to the left, anxious to see what Richard was doing, but Dean’s hands did not allow him any movement.

‘You should see Richard right now,’ Dean said in between gasps. ‘He’s – he’s jerking himself, and he’s looking at you sucking on me and oh, fuck…’

Frustrated that he couldn’t see anything and aching for someone to touch him, Aidan renewed his efforts, his head bobbing furiously in Dean’s lap. Dean pulled at Aidan’s hair – a kink Aidan had, for some reason, not told Dean about, but it made his whole body tingle – and his hips began to shake, and then he was coming with hot spurts down Aidan’s throat. His soft suckling continued until Dean pushed him away, unable to handle the sensitivity. 

Aidan’s eyes lifted for the first time since Richard instructed Dean to shut him up. Richard hadn’t come yet but he looked as if he were actively trying to prevent himself from doing so; the hand around his cock twitched with the effort of not moving and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. He was everything Aidan and Dean had hoped he would be. 

The couch rustled as Dean sat up, shaky in his post-orgasm reverie. He fixed his gaze on Aidan but when he spoke, he spoke to Richard. ‘Shall I finish him off?’

‘Please,’ Richard’s reply was a rumble in a low octave neither Dean nor Aidan could ever hope to reach. He slowly twisted his hand up to the head of his cock and then down again, watching Dean as Aidan watched his hand.

Dean nodded once and, grabbing the front of Aidan’s shirt, hauled him up so Aidan was sitting awkwardly in the small space between Dean’s thighs. Aidan, being taller, pretty much blocked Dean’s view of Richard but it didn’t matter. It was Aidan’s turn in the spotlight.

‘Richard wants me to make you come,’ Dean murmured against Aidan’s earlobe, making him shiver. Inwardly he frowned – it wasn’t like Dean to be so direct, it never had been, but any questions he might’ve had died on his lips when Dean’s nimble fingers opened his trousers, wrapped around his erection and proceeded to stroke.

Dean had always been good with his hands – the hand job was the first thing that they perfected as a couple because Dean felt that it was the least ‘gay’ ( _very_ early in their relationship, obviously) and those memories came flooding back to Aidan as Dean touched him. The secrecy and uncertainty and should-we-really-be-doing this had been a major turn-on then and it still was now; he clutched Dean’s forearm as he moaned weakly, knowing that he had a minute or two at the most.

Richard came first, leaning forward into himself as his hand and shirt were shot with white. His eyes were open and he was rather quiet, choking something incomprehensible. It was enough to set off Aidan’s orgasm, digging his nails into Dean’s arm hard enough to leave marks, whining and shivering and whispering, ‘I fucking love you,’ when he regained the ability to speak. 

The aftermath was the part neither of them had considered. Aidan supposed they would just clean up, maybe have another drink and then Richard would be on his way with no adverse affects to their friendship or their working dynamic. There was no touching, there were no incriminating pictures taken. Richard could have up and left at any time. He must’ve wanted to be there or he wouldn’t have stayed.

Then why did Richard look vaguely sick? He rose from the chair and cleaned his hand with a wad of tissues pulled from the box on the coffee table, then squared his shoulders at his sticky co-stars who hadn’t yet moved from the sofa. Aidan frowned. This wasn’t how it was meant to go.

Richard cleared his throat. Then he cleared it again. ‘Um – ‘ he tried, visibly struggling for the right words to say.

‘It’s cool, Richard, it’s fine,’ Dean assured from behind Aidan. ‘Don’t worry about anything, okay? We’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

Richard coughed. ‘Yes. Good. See you, then.’ He looked at the two of them again, an unspoken apology written all over his face, threw open the door and left, not bothering to use the steps in his haste.

‘Well,’ Dean said blankly.

‘What’s his problem?’ Aidan demanded. ‘We didn’t force him to do anything, and now he’s makin’ it weird.’

‘I dunno,’ Dean replied, sounding sad. ‘He’s a professional, though. We all are. Everything’s gonna be fine.’

Aidan wasn’t convinced. The boundaries of their friendship had shifted with a couple of scotch-fuelled, thinking-with-your-dick-instead-of-your-head decisions, the consequences of those decisions were making themselves known, and he didn’t know what they were supposed to do now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard would never ask Aidan and Dean for a repeat performance...but Thorin Oakenshield might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Birthday, ThornyHedge! I'm not sure if this is exactly what you were after but I hope it's to your liking anyway. :D (And apologies for the lateness!)
> 
> I switch POVs in this part a lot because I felt it was necessary for the story (I mean, you had to know what was going on in Richard's head!) so feedback is welcomed if that 'worked' or not. I don't usually write that way so it was a bit interesting.

Aidan thought, for the most part, that Dean was pretty much perfect, but his other pronounced shortfall (all height jokes notwithstanding) was his skill for brushing conflict aside, preferring not to deal with it in the hope that it’d go away. They’d had several arguments that would simmer uncomfortably for days before Aidan was the first one not to necessarily apologise, but to break the proverbial ice and bring up whatever the cause of the fight was, and they would eventually come to a resolution.

He had a feeling that this - this _incident_ (what a stupid word, but that’s what it was) with Richard was going to be much the same. Dean would turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to any unpleasantness between the three of them, and eventually, maybe, it would go away. Except it really wouldn’t, it’d hang over Aidan’s head forever, and for once he wanted to share the burden of ownership with his co-conspirator.

Apparently it was going to take more than a quiet talking-to for Dean to agree. ‘So what are we gonna do about – ‘ he tried, before Dean cut him off with a squawk.

‘No, no, no, a thousand fucking times no, Aidan.’

‘You don’t even know what I was going to ask!’

Dean rolled his head as if to say _how the fuck could I **not** know?_ ‘You were going to ask about Richard. What we’re going to do about him. Right?’

Aidan didn’t say anything.

‘Yeah, I thought so. Really, Aidan, what’s there to say? “Sorry you feel so weird about watching us fuck, let’s go back to the way things were”? Do I need to remind you that _Richard_ was the one who opted to stay? It’s not like we tied him down and _forced_ him to watch.’ Dean paused.

‘That’d be really hot, though,’ they said together, and then laughed.

‘I’m serious, Dean,’ Aidan continued, pushing that mental image from his brain. ‘We have to say _somethin’_ to him. Even “Hey, no weirdness, we’ll never mention it again, we’re still friends right?” He didn’t even get the standard one-night stand treatment with a cup of coffee and thanks-for-coming see-you-later the next morning. He got up and left like a hooker.’

‘Which means that the problem lies with him, doesn’t it?’

On one hand, he appreciated Dean’s easygoing approach to drama – on the other, well, there was easygoing and then there was fucking braindead.

‘I am _worried_ about him,’ Aidan said slowly and carefully, trying to convey to Dean, without resorting to physically shaking him, how serious he was. ‘What if he tells someone?’

‘Yeah, and pigs might fly, too, but I’m not holding my breath.’

Aidan mentally replaced ‘easygoing’ with ‘obtuse as fuck’. Dean sighed. ‘Okay, fine, look, give it a few more days. If he’s still got his knickers in a knot we’ll have a word to him then.’ His lips twitched. ‘D’you think Richard even wears knickers? He seems like the commando, freeballing sort. The quiet ones always are, you know.’

Aidan beaned him with a bottle top. ‘Is your mind ever out of the gutter, O’Gorman?’

‘Course not, that’s why you love me,’ Dean said proudly, crawling onto Aidan’s lap for a kiss.

***

Richard had always liked to think of himself as a reasonably moral sort of man. He obeyed the law, he didn’t cheat on his lovers, he worked hard and was nice to children, old people and mouth-breathing fangirls. He couldn’t recite the books of the Bible worth a damn but he was, in the grand scheme of things, not a bad person. His sex life had always been rather vanilla, maybe a blindfold or a pair of fluffy handcuffs every now and then, but any kinks held deep within him remained largely unexplored.

Then Aidan and Dean had happened. Though ‘happened’ was too mild a word to describe what they’d done to him. He felt thoroughly wrecked and hadn’t the foggiest clue what to do about it.

He honest-to-God had not expected any of it when he knocked on Dean’s door. Richard didn’t _have_ ulterior motives; he thought they were a waste of time. Of course he visually appreciated Dean's dimples and ever-present stubble, Aidan's mad curls and perpetual sunny smile. _Visually_ being the operative word. They had each other, they loved each other; Richard would never try to come between them.

Perhaps _come between_ was a poor choice of words.

Yes, watching Aidan suck Dean off had been the most erotic thing he'd ever had the privilege to witness. All the porn in the world was a pathetic imitation of what had taken place before him. He'd probably use the memory as wank fodder for the rest of his life. 

It seemed like such a waste for it to _just_ be wank fodder, though. Both Aidan and Dean clearly wanted him there, they definitely wanted him to see. Richard had been awake from the moment Aidan opened Dean's pants and had held his breath waiting to see if they'd stop, get up and take the party to another room. But they _didn't_. It had sounded like they never intended to. What was it Aidan said? _You wanted him to watch._ Or something like that.

It wasn't _usual_ , though, least of all for Richard himself. It wasn’t exactly immoral, what they’d done; but it erred on the side of the deviant behavior he’d never considered himself to be capable of.

He wanted to do it again.

Richard blinked hard and mentally hit himself upside the head. He was being fantastical and absurd. It was not going to happen. Not unless he marched straight back to Dean’s trailer and let his intentions be known.

Moral dilemma aside, he wasn’t quite at that point yet. And wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

***

‘I have a theory,’ Dean said, sounding absolutely sure of himself.

‘And what’s that?’ Aidan asked him without looking up from the takeaway menu he was perusing. Another day had passed with Richard barely acknowledging their existence. Their deadline was two days from now and Aidan was really hoping that Richard would take the plunge before he had to as he hadn’t the vaguest clue how to begin that conversation.

‘Richard is acting strange because he enjoyed watching us _too_ much and he really wants to do it again, but he’s not sure how to ask.’

Aidan snorted. ‘That sounds like the beginning of a bad porn movie.’

‘Yeah. Totally plausible, though.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘I’m flattering you, too. I keep telling you, Aidan, he could’ve got up and left as soon as he noticed that something was going on, he could’ve said he as uncomfortable or grossed out but he _jerked off_ over us.’

‘And then ran out the door like his arse was on fire.’

‘Because he’s in denial. Have you picked out what we’re having for dinner yet?’

‘Butter chicken,’ Aidan replied, waving the menu at him. ‘You can have your own naan this time, you’re not stealing all mine again. And what’s your point, anyway?’

Dean flicked on the TV and opened the fridge to investigate its contents. ‘No point. Just saying. Richard will either get over himself and we will go back to being friends, or he’ll come to us and beg for a repeat performance. You’re ordering tonight, by the way.’

‘I did it last time!’

‘They like you better. Whenever I call they always forget the pappadums, I swear they do it on purpose.’

‘They make me say the order about four times, it’s extremely weird,’ Aidan mumbled, reaching for his phone.

‘They like your accent,’ Dean said with a grin. He poured them both a drink and made himself comfortable on the sofa while Aidan spent the next painstaking few minutes trying to place their dinner order with the woman who always pretended not to understand a word he said.

A couple of hours later, full to the brim, more than a little pissed and making out while the late news played in the background, Dean asked a question that he would’ve thought was breezily nonchalant. Aidan knew better.

‘If you _had_ to pick one of the dwarves, right…’ He trailed off and wiggled his eyebrows.

‘I’d pick you,’ Aidan said automatically. Dean rolled his eyes. ‘Then myself, then Thorin.’

‘Why?’

‘How could you not? He makes poverty look majestic.’

Dean bit Aidan’s lower lip. ‘I’d pick Thorin too.’

‘Of course you would, you have a rather girly crush on Richard.’

‘I merely appreciate the man’s aesthetic qualities.’

‘That’s the definition of a crush,’ Aidan scoffed, grabbing Dean’s wrists and holding them above his head. He rotated his hips slowly, smiling devilishly at the sounds of need it drew from the smaller man beneath him. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Thorin doesn’t exist and Richard can hardly handle being within twenty feet of us. Any fantasies you have about Thorin will have to stay just that, Dean. Fantasies.’

***

Richard’s fantasies about Aidan and Dean were becoming more and more frequent and insanely distracting.

His performance as Thorin was, thankfully, minimally affected but his ability to otherwise behave as a fully functioning human being was severely diminished. It was embarrassing. He was a grown man, for God’s sake. He was past the point of fawning over much younger, much more unattainable and much more attached colleagues.

He _should_ be past the point, rather.

Richard had accepted the fact that he wanted more from them. Not necessarily touching – even if they allowed that it wouldn’t feel right – but if the chance to observe (“watch” sounded so sketchy) were to present itself again he wouldn’t turn it down. It was the ‘how’ that he hadn’t figured out yet. It was the kind of conundrum that didn’t allow for consulting others for their advice and the internet was no help at all (he’d tried) which left option A: balls-out brashness or option B: giving up the whole stupid wish and forever wondering what could have been.

Richard pursed his lips as he pondered. Dutch courage was not going to be his crutch. Not this time. Too many bad nights and black holes where memories should be made that certain. Nor could he be so transparent as to just ‘happen’ to show up at Dean’s trailer again under the pretense of avoiding a night out. He thought that made him look desperate. Richard Armitage was many things but he was never _desperate_.

He had lied, now that he thought about it; the Internet had provided one useful suggestion: that costumes or disguises may aid those people who suffered from an inability to express their desires in the bedroom. The removal of an everyday persona could assist with the removal of inhibitions.

Richard Armitage would _never_ ask Aidan and Dean if he could be granted an encore display of their sexual talents.

But Thorin Oakenshield might.

***

‘I’ve got a text from Richard!’ Dean crowed to Aidan post-filming the next day. ‘He wants to pop by tonight, says he’s sorry for being such a girl – no, that’s actually what he said – and he wants to talk to us.’

‘Brilliant!’ Aidan exclaimed. ‘It’ll be so good to not have him jump twelve feet in the air whenever I go near him. Not that he has to jump very far to reach twelve feet. Did he include a winky face in the message?’

‘No. I don’t think Richard uses emoticons.’

‘Yeah, probably not. Still, that’s great! When’s he coming over?’

Dean glanced at his watch. ‘Er, should be right about – ‘

Just then, there was a clipped knock on the door, imperious and not at all like Richard’s customary respectful tap.

Aidan frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound like him.’

***

All right, Richard _had_ resorted to a small helping hand from his friend Cabernet Sauvignon, but under the circumstances he thought it could be excused. He was still in full wig, make-up and partial costume (sans additional padding and ridiculous fur coat) and had only just managed to escape the set without anyone noticing or questioning his strange behavior – well, by everyone except Graham. Graham had quirked an eyebrow and said ‘Right,’ when Richard advised him not to ask. He’d have to concoct some story later.

Getting into Thorin’s head was simple but staying there, especially when nerves hindered his efforts, was going to be a challenge. His knock on Dean’s trailer door sounded more like he was trying to break it down. He assumed Thorin’s expression of haughty disdain as the door swung in and Dean and Aidan both peered out, looking confused. ‘Dean O’Gorman and Aidan Turner?’ he asked impatiently

They shared an odd look before Dean shrugged so imperceptibly that Richard (Thorin) wouldn’t have seen it had he not been looking for some sign of acquiescence. Aidan answered for them both. ‘Yes?’

Richard ascended the steps without being asked and shouldered past them into the entrance to the living room. He drew himself up to his full height – even higher with the boots on – and gazed around the room as if seeing it for the first time. ‘I have been sent here by – ‘ Shit, how was he going to refer to himself? ‘ – an acquaintance. He advised that the two of you could show me something rather…pleasing, if I so desired.’

Aidan’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled a small, naughty smile of comprehension. ‘Really?

‘Did he say what that might be?’ Dean asked him.

‘He did not.’

‘Can you guess?’ Aidan pressed.

‘I do not make guesses,’ Richard-as-Thorin said impatiently. ‘I have hardly come this far to play games. Show me what it is my acquaintance spoke so highly of, or am I wasting my time here?’

Aidan’s eyes flashed. ‘Not at all. Watch closely, I expect this is what your…friend was talking about.’ He turned and, backing Dean up against the wall, thrust his tongue into the smaller man’s mouth in a mashed-lip, tawdry excuse for a kiss. It was brief, brutal and beautiful, and it made the small part of Richard’s brain that still wasn’t sure if he should be here shut right up. He sucked in his breath as Aidan sucked on Dean’s tongue, splaying his hands across Dean’s ass and squeezing. Aidan didn’t stop until too many seconds later when Dean was writhing against him, blurry-eyed and puffy-lipped. It was even better than Richard remembered.

He let out the breath he’d been holding a silently as possible and nodded curtly. ‘I do desire,’ he said in a low growl. It was at that point that Richard fell away completely and Thorin took his place.

***

_We’ve completely underestimated him,_ Aidan thought. He’d been expecting Richard to show up for a meek chat and a cup of tea and instead the King Under the frigging Mountain was standing in Dean’s living room demanding round two. And it _was_ Thorin; Richard wasn’t peeking through at all. Dean’s fantasies – hell, all of Dean’s Christmases, birthdays and spontaneous blowjobs – were coming to life right before their eyes.

Although he’d be lying if he said that he’d never imagined this scenario himself. It’s just that he and Dean were usually in their Kíli and Fíli costumes at the same time. Filing the thought away for later use, he looked from Dean to Thorin and said, ‘Shall we move this to somewhere more comfortable?’

Thorin shook his head and pointed at the couch. ‘No. That will suffice.’

Dean was going to have to invest in a new couch because they could never have company again, not with all that had taken place on that particular piece of furniture. Nevertheless he seated himself, followed by Dean, who had decided to sit _on_ him. Which was nice (especially the way their crotches grazed each other) but Dean was also blocking his view of Thorin, and he did _not_ want to miss that.

Dean distracted him from that thought by kissing him again, slower this time, nipping Aidan’s lower lip gently as he did so. ‘Fucking _Thorin_ ,’ Dean hissed into Aidan’s mouth, the blues of his irises having become minute slivers around desire-darkened pupils. _Fucking Thorin_ said it all, really.

‘Let’s make it a good one for him,’ Aidan murmured back. He craned his neck around to address Thorin. ‘Did your…acquaintance send you here with any idea of what you were in for?’

Thorin’s smirk was coy. ‘Not precisely, no. He was rather flustered. He preferred to…show me himself.’

Aidan shuddered and Dean said _fuck_ under his breath because Jesus hell, what was that supposed to mean? It evoked a range of debauched mental images and raised far too many questions that Aidan _knew_ neither Richard nor Thorin would ever answer.

‘Did he say what your role would be?’ Dean asked without turning around. He then bent down to nibble on Aidan’s left earlobe, giving Aidan a clear view of their guest across the room. He felt Aidan’s shudder reverberate through his body at Thorin’s answer.

‘To watch.’

***

_This freedom could become addictive,_ Richard thought as he took in the two beautiful men undressing before him. The nerves, the reservations had disappeared, replaced by Thorin’s quiet determination and steely resilience. Okay, so he might’ve been watching two of his friends go it at rather than trying to reclaim the throne of Erebor from a dragon, but the principle was the same.

He was half-hard already just from watching them kiss. He’d never really given much thought to the… _mechanics_ of kissing (it was fun, but ultimately a means to an end) and these two were making it look like sex itself. They looked so comfortable with each other. They just _fit_.

Christ, that was definitely Richard thinking, not Thorin. He coughed, attempting to get his mind back on track, and almost bit his tongue at what he saw.

Dean was rubbing his hands all over Aidan – no, not rubbing, he was doing it too lightly for that, it was the ghost of a caress designed to take Aidan apart. Dean would start at his shoulders, down his spine, across his hips to his ribs, then he’d feel sorry for Aidan and twist his hand on Aidan’s cock – just once, and then he’d start again. Richard almost pitied him. It was clear who was the tease in that relationship.

Aidan whined ‘Please’ and ‘don’t stop’ and ‘more, damn you’ but none of it convinced Dean to stop the featherlike exploration of Aidan’s flesh. If anything it egged him on. Apparently Aidan was especially sensitive on his back because he arched away from the touch and then back into it, alternating as if it was too much to bear and impossible to get enough of. His cock – the little Richard could see of it, anyway – was bobbing, wet and red and neglected, against his stomach.

Aidan’s agony was beautiful but Richard knew he could endure worse. He cleared his throat and called out to Dean, ‘I want to see your mouth on him.’

***

Aidan’s eyes snapped open at Thorin’s request. Oh, God, he wanted that too. He wondered for half a second if Thorin should actually be giving them instructions – nothing like that had been talked about, after all – then realized that was stupid, they hadn’t talked about _anything_. Besides, Dean hadn’t been able to refuse Richard when he was given an order; how could he refuse Thorin?

It seemed that Dean agreed because he was sliding to the floor between Aidan’s legs and blowing a stream of air on the tip of his cock. He took every ounce of strength in Aidan’s body not to grab a handful of blond hair and bury himself in that all-to-cocky throat. ‘Patience,’ Dean muttered, either to Aidan or to Thorin, Aidan couldn’t tell; and lowered his mouth onto Aidan just as gently as lightly as his hands had explored Aidan’s skin. He began slowly, his mouth moving up and down the length as his tongue swirled on the inside, reducing Aidan into a whimpering mess in the best way that he knew how.

Aidan wanted to fuck more than Dean’s mouth but he was almost too far gone to stop now, the gradual burn giving way to the inevitable explosion. It was a talent of Dean’s, to work him up piece by piece and have him teetering on the edge of orgasm for so long he didn’t see it coming when he fell over the edge. So he couldn’t hold in his howl of frustration when Thorin shouted ‘Stop!’ again. ‘Oh fuck you,’ Aidan snarled.

Thorin’s eyes glittered. His cock was standing out amongst the folds of his clothing, evidently having been freed while Dean was busy, but he wasn’t touching it. ‘That’s no way to speak to a king,’ he said in a low, dangerous voice. ‘I think you should put that mouth of yours to better use.’

Aidan grinned, nudging Dean up off his knees to sit beside him. Oh, he’d put it to use, all right. Thorin likely wouldn’t be expecting _this_.

***

Richard swore to himself as he watched Aidan push Dean facedown onto the sofa. Surely he wasn’t going to – oh, fuck, yes, he was.

Aidan had spread Dean’s arse cheeks, poked the end of a pink tongue out and was using it to wring the most exquisite noises from his recumbent boyfriend. He was licking – God. _There._ Richard was overcome with envy for a split second, wondering jealously how that must feel. ‘Christ,’ he hissed, forgetting to stay in character for a moment.

Dean didn’t notice because he was busy pleading for Aidan to fuck him and Aidan didn’t notice because he was too busy looking smug as hell. Richard resumed stroking himself with as much self-control as he could manage, knowing that he wasn’t going to last much longer if this kept up.

Aidan was easing one finger into Dean, his eyes never leaving Richards. ‘I’m going to fuck him, Thorin,’ he explained, moving the finger in and out, making Dean twist and writhe before adding another. ‘Does this sound acceptable to you?’

Richard swallowed. ‘Yes.’

***

Aidan knew he probably looked every inch the smug bastard right now but he couldn’t help it. He’d reduced Dean into a shuddering pile of nerves with his tongue – one of his favourite pastimes apart from eating and sleeping – and he’d managed to shock Thorin into veritable silence.

At first he wasn't sure if Dean would agree to doing that in front of Thorin but then Dean wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to refuse. When Aidan had asked, 'Can I?' very quietly Dean responded by barking, 'Yes, fine, do it, just fucking hurry up!'

He hadn't yet worked out how to position the two of them so that this would work with minimal chafing from the couch and so that Thorin could see what was going on.

'I want - ' Thorin sighed, visibly struggling to breathe and speak from the hand around his erection. Aidan waited as he took another breath, and then said, 'I want to see your faces.'

'Bedroom,' Aidan ordered. He was tempted to throw Dean over his shoulder and carry him in but figured that would not be appreciated in complete privacy, let alone with a dwarf king observing. He settled for helping Dean off the sofa and pushing him in the direction of the bedroom, Thorin lumbering along behind them.

There were no extra seats in Dean's bedroom (and why would there be) so when Thorin stood around stiffly looking for a place to sit, Aidan patted the edge of the bed and then promptly returned his attention to Dean, who had already been in the bedside table for a condom and lube and had thrown them at Aidan.

'I'm just making sure our guest is comfortable - ' he began. Dean's face darkened.

'If you don't put that - ' he nodded his head at Aidan's cock ' - to good use _right now_ , I swear to God...'

'So impetuous,' Thorin said in an undertone, evidently trying to contain his amusement at Dean's desperation.

'Both of you need to can it or I'm finishing myself off!' Dean huffed. Aidan kissed his brow tenderly.

'Can't have that, we've got company.' He rolled on the condom and dumped a liberal amount of lube to his fingers, hoping that Dean was relaxed enough to take two to begin with to save time. After he added a third finger Dean was back to shouting expletives, so he figured that was close enough. Aidan lifted Dean's hips up, aimed and fired.

They were still getting into the rhythm of that part of their relationship, as it were; so the first few thrusts were jerky and graceless. Dean helped him along by lifting his hips further and rolling them, trying to find that delightful -

' _Christ_ ,' Dean moaned, his nails scratching Aidan's shoulders. ' _There._ '

'Fuck,' he ground out to nobody in particular. 'You're almost like a vice, you know?'

Dean rolled his lower body in one smooth wave, face crumpling as he concentrated. 'Please stop talking.'

Aidan thought to glance over at Thorin and did as he was asked, pounding into Dean harder and faster. He was so proud of them both. Thorin looked hypnotised.

***

_I am one hundred per cent going to hell,_ Richard thought dimly as he wanked himself off while watching one colleague fuck the other colleague senseless. He wondered how it felt for Dean. His curiosity was well and truly piqued and he inwardly berated himself because where was he going to find a willing volunteer to sate _that_ curiosity?

Dean was borderline destroyed, he could see it from the way his neck arched back on the pillow and his fingers clutched at the sheets. And when Aidan stroked his cock in time with his thrusts (damn if that didn’t' take some coordination) Dean lost it, tensing up and coming in a series of agonised cries and a whole lot of mess over his abdomen. At that point Richard's brain all but short-circuited and conscious thought died and his orgasm crashed over him like a wave, calling out either Dean's or Aidan's name, he wasn't sure.

Aidan was last - Richard was fairly confident he'd gloat about it later - seizing up and slamming into Dean one last time with an inhuman groan. He fell next to Dean on the bed, obviously exhausted.

There was less awkwardness than last time - Richard wasn't going to up and leave like a prostitute who'd done their job and couldn't wait to get out of there, for example - but he didn't know what the protocol was going to be for, say, cleaning up, and when to break character.

'Spec-fucking-tacular, Rich,' Dean said sincerely. 'On every level.'

'Oscar-winning,' Aidan agreed, the words muffled by the arm thrown over his face. 'Could not be happier. About all that, and that you're, you know, still here.'

Richard felt his face heat. 'Sorry about that. I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do. Running like hell seemed the best option.'

'How are we ever going to top that?' Dean mused. 'I mean, you know. If you wanted to.'

Richard did want to. He did _not_ want this to be the extent of his sex life in New Zealand - and in the future, for that matter - but if Aidan and Dean were offering...

'We've set the bar pretty high,' Aidan said with a sigh. 'There's only one thing I can think of. I dunno if Richard's going to go for it.'

'Try me.'

Aidan's grin was catlike. 'Me and Dean, you and somebody else, at the same time. Not an orgy, just two couples in the same room at the same time. Where're we gonna find a volunteer, though?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs off cackling*

**Author's Note:**

> GODDAMMIT I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. How did this become slightly plotty. Fuck. One, maybe two more parts to come. (I really want to get Graham involved.)


End file.
